It must be his business to make an opportunity
to slip away on the motor-bike to Stanning. Ten minutes to get
there, five minutes to deliver his message at the police station
(if the Chief's people made their headquarters there), and ten
minutes to get back if they had a car. Could he leave the meeting
for 25 minutes without arousing suspicions? He doubted it; but it
must be. There was no other way. And then with a shock that made
him cold with fear he remembered Mortimer's motor-car.
If, during his absence, anything occurred to arouse their
suspicions, the whole crowd could pile into the car and be away
long before Desmond could be back with help. The fog had lifted
and it was a clear night outside. The car would have to be got
rid of before he left the house, that was all about it. But how?
A means to that end must also be discovered as the evening
progressed. By the way, what had Mortimer done with his car?
A very faint throbbing somewhere outside answered Desmond's
unspoken question.
Mortimer flung aside his paper.
"Isn't that a car?" he asked, "that'll be they. I sent Max to
Wentfield station to meet our friends!"
There was the sound of voices, of bustle in the hall. Then the
door opened and a man came in. Desmond had a brief moment of
acute suspense.
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